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Up in the mountains, beside the fire, on a sort of involuntary holiday, that isn’t really a holiday because there is a seemingly endless stack of work. There’s still snow this year, making shoulder season into peak season. Trying to block out the thoughts of what would be happening now but for the looming deadlines next week.

More than ten years ago, different mountains, around this time of year. There was no snow then. Cleaning rooms like this, the thousand point checklist, hospital corners.

Everyone looks exhausted leaving for the weekend, strangers in the lift. For almost all of us, if we are here, this time of day, it’s because the weekend is just a number of days where work will be done somewhere else.